A Question of Honor (12 page)

“Yes, sir,” and Edwards pointed the
Osprey
in that direction.

Noah set the binoculars down on the console, glancing over at Kit. Ever since the Davis shooting incident three weeks earlier, she had withdrawn deeply within herself. There were shadows beneath her haunted eyes. And nearly every night, he’d hear her get up before dawn, leave the bedroom and pad down the hall to the living room, unable to sleep. The ache in his heart intensified and so did the need to help her. Kit filled his waking, and now his sleeping, state.

Tearing from his own inner turmoil, Noah explained what was going on with the boat they would intercept shortly. “The poor of Haiti will gather on an old, leaky tub and try to make it to the U.S., hoping for a new and better life for themselves.”

Kit nodded. Through her binoculars she could see the small sixteen-foot boat loaded down with human cargo, including many nearly naked children. “What will you do?”

He heard the worry in Kit’s husky voice. “Let them board. Chances are, they’re probably out of food, maybe even water. Depending on ocean currents and weather conditions, they may have been out to sea a good seven to ten days. Their supplies have to be running low.”

Relief flowed through Kit. Nothing touched her heart like the destitute and elderly. “While I was undercover, I got a chance to work with a group of orphaned Colombian children for almost six months.” Kit lowered the binoculars, searching Noah’s face. He gave her strength, whether he knew it or not. “I love children. All of them.”

The yearning in her voice didn’t go unnoticed. “You came from a large family, so you probably want a big one yourself,” he teased.

A trace of a smile crossed Kit’s lips as she watched the Haitian boat drawing closer and closer. “At least three kids, maybe four.”

“No basketball team?” he said, still teasing.

Drowning in Noah’s warming gaze, Kit sobered. The need to walk into his arms once again to kiss him, was driving her to distraction. Tearing herself from her torrid thoughts, Kit murmured, “I love all kids. No matter what their color or nationality. They’re the ones who get caught in situations beyond their control.”

Noah agreed. “Well, when we get them on board, I’m sure we’re going to need your help as an interpreter. They usually speak French and little else. Maybe some pidgin English, if we’re lucky.”

“For once I’m looking forward to our boarding a boat,” Kit said fervently. Every boat they’d searched after the Davis gun incident had made her break into a sweat, her fear a palpable, living thing within her.

Noah’s voice lowered with feeling. “I can tell you are.”

Kit’s heart went out to the fifteen Haitians in that leaky tub they called a boat. It was a miracle they hadn’t sunk. She watched as Noah and his men transferred the five families to the
Osprey
. And he’d been right: the Haitians spoke little English, so she became the organizer, more or less, of getting the people comfortable.

She saw the desperation and fear in the eyes of the women as they kept asking her if they could remain in the U.S. Kit didn’t know the answer. She stayed busy in the hold of the cutter while Noah was up on the bridge, placing the
Osprey
on a course for Miami. One young woman, no more than seventeen, was decidedly pregnant. Another child, Marie, hung shyly at Kit’s elbow, her brown eyes huge with fear.

Getting them fed and providing space in the hold where they could rest or lie down on blankets was the main course of action. Kit crouched at the pregnant mother’s side when she saw Noah enter the hold.

Noah nodded to the families, huddled in small groups. The children were far less frightened now, thanks to Kit’s obvious affection and care. He halted, watching Kit as she tended to the frightened teen. Miraculously all the tension was gone from Kit’s features, and her eyes were sparkling with life. He saw one little girl steal beneath Kit’s left arm, snuggling close to her.

Kit looked at Noah when he knelt opposite her. His eyes were warm with pleasure. “Looks like you’ve already got a family,” he noted, motioning to the little girl in Kit’s arms.

Embracing Marie, Kit nodded. “She sort of took to me, I guess.”

Moved because she had shared her feelings with him, Noah realized the child was drawing Kit out of her shell. “Anyone in their right mind would,” Noah admitted, a catch in his voice. And when he saw the surprise in Kit’s eyes, he quickly changed the subject. “You can tell these people that we’ll be taking them to Miami, not back to Haiti. Immigration will see that they’re given food and shelter. There’s a good chance they’ll be staying in the U.S.”

Tears surged into Kit’s eyes unexpectedly. Embarrassed that Noah had seen them, she wiped them away with the back of her hand. “That’s wonderful,” she whispered in a strained voice. “They were all so fearful you were going to return them to Haiti. Let me tell them.”

Noah got to his feet, watching hope spring up to the faces of the refugees as Kit told them the happy news. It made him feel good. In his daily life he often saw only negativity. This time there was something positive, and he relished the Haitians’ reactions to Kit’s announcement. He frowned, noticing that tears continued to stream down Kit’s face. She placed Marie beside her mother and turned to him.

“I—I have to pull myself together, Noah. May I use your cabin for just a—”

“Come with me,” he told her huskily, putting his hand on her elbow and leading her down the passageway. She was trembling.

“I’ll be okay,” Kit stammered, trying to stem the flow of tears. Why was she crying like this? Why couldn’t she stop? Noah’s firm touch on her arm only made her want to cry more. Blinded by the onslaught of tears, Kit didn’t try to pull out of his grasp.

“Hang on,” Noah said, opening the door to his cabin. He drew her inside, guiding her to the bunk, where she sat down. Picking up the phone, he called the bridge and told Edwards to take command for now. When he turned back to her, she was hunched over, hands clasped in her lap, head bowed. Removing his officer’s cap he placed it on the desk, then crouched in front of her. The instant his hands came to rest on her slumped shoulders, a sob tore from her.

“Oh, Noah…”

He maintained a firm grip on her arms. “It’s about time,” he said thickly.

More sobs punished her, and Kit raised her head. Noah’s face was nothing but a blur. “Wh-what are you talking about?”

“You’re burned out, Kit. And you’ve been holding a lot of ugly stuff inside you.” He pushed a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ve been waiting and wondering when you were going to let it all go.” His voice grew dark. “Don’t fight it. I’m here, and I’ll help you.”

She hadn’t cried in almost a year. Kit clung to his tender gaze, feeling as if she were coming apart from the inside out. Just the husky tenor of Noah’s voice dissolved the last of the barriers that held her grief and fear captive. Noah rose and sat down on the bunk beside Kit, opening his arms, drawing her to him.

As she sank against him, Noah groaned, wrapping his arms tightly about her, rocking her gently, as if she were a hurt child. “It’s okay, Kit, let it out, let it all go….” And he shut his eyes, pressing his cheek against her hair, allowing her to weep freely. Her fingers dug deeply into his chest, and Noah rubbed her shoulders and back, willing out the horror she’d held so long in abeyance.

Every stroke of his fingers on her back took a little more of the pain away from her. Kit surrendered her trust to him, something she’d never done with a man before. She felt Noah move slightly, his strong, sensual mouth pressed against her temple in a soothing kiss. Kit instinctively nuzzled upward, finding refuge in the feathery touch of his mouth. A soft moan of surrender slid from her as he barely grazed her mouth.

Giving free rein to his feelings for Kit, Noah cradled her chin, imprisoning her. He leaned down to kiss those full, glistening lips, and tasted the bitterness of salt on her flesh. A fire lit explosively within him. She was soft and inviting…. He grazed her lips with his tongue, and his body tightened with desire as he molded his mouth hungrily to hers. At first there was no response from Kit, but he continued his gentle seduction. And then her lips moved shyly against his, sending a soaring sheet of flame through him. He felt the hunger of wanting to love her physically gnaw at him. But his heart instructed him differently.

Body hard and throbbing, Noah tore his mouth from hers. Kit was breathing raggedly. He saw wonder and some unknown feeling in her wide, gray eyes. She was just as shocked by his kiss as he was.

The silence eddied around them. Kit drowned in Noah’s turbulent green gaze. She read so much in his eyes, a richness of feelings that flowed through her like a gentle wind in the wake of a destructive storm. Kit swallowed hard, unwilling to leave Noah’s embrace. The unsure smile that tipped the corners of his mouth endeared him to her even more.

“All right now?” he asked, his voice little more than a rasp. His senses were vibrantly alive because of her, because of everything she was and was not. She had been so sweet and feminine in his arms. Noah knew his kiss had not been out of pity for her condition. Just the lustrous quality in her eyes sent him reeling. He had to get up and leave. He had to staunch the flow of this molten ribbon that so powerfully connected them.

“Y-yes, fine…” Kit whispered. She tried to wipe her cheeks dry but didn’t succeed very well. “I feel so stupid, breaking down like that for no reason.”

“Don’t you think it was good to cry and get rid of all that poison inside you?”

Sniffing, Kit couldn’t meet his gaze. But his deep voice was a balm to her ravaged state. “I guess so, Noah.”

“Maybe you’ll be able to sleep better at night from now on.”

Stunned that he knew of her nightly wakenings, Kit stared up at him. His eyes were gentle with understanding.

“I haven’t met too many agents who didn’t have some sleepless nights,” Noah said soothingly. “From now on, if you need a shoulder to cry on, look me up.”

Taking a deep breath, Kit nodded. “I will.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Noah rose—the last thing he wanted to do. Keeping a hand on her shoulder, he said, “Stay here awhile and work through the rest of it, Kit. Okay?”

She lowered her lashes, her heart squeezing with fresh pain. Noah was retreating rapidly. His voice had taken on that familiar authoritative quality. “I’ll be fine,” she promised in a rasp. “Go ahead, I know you have things to attend to.”

The disappointment in her tone was very real. Noah wondered why, but didn’t ask. Reluctantly he allowed his hand to slide from her shoulder. “I’ll see you later.”

The door shut quietly, and Kit looked up. All her senses focused on the wonderful kiss they had shared. It had been so unexpected, but so right. Getting up, Kit ran some water in the small basin and washed her flushed face, hoping to get rid of the signs of crying. What she couldn’t wash away was Noah’s tenderness or her physical need to love him.

As she dried her face with a towel, she tried to understand what had happened. Ever since she’d met Noah, some undefinable tension had simmered hotly between them. And every day it seemed to heighten, making her excruciatingly aware of being a woman. All these feelings were new and disturbing.

Placing the towel on the bracket, Kit took in a deep breath, trying to steady her roiling emotions. Nothing worked. She sat back down, burying her face in her hands. A young Haitian child had broken through the barriers behind which she had hidden so many old hurts and griefs from past wounds. Somehow Noah had known what was happening and taken her aside so that he could hold her while she worked through that terrible storm of feelings. But he didn’t have to kiss her. And she didn’t have to respond, either. Kit’s eyes grew troubled with the implications. They had to work together, and this shouldn’t be happening.

If she was any judge of the situation, Noah was just as surprised by the kiss as she was. But both of them had wanted it, needed it. Kit tried to tell herself that Noah had kissed her out of compassion, nothing else. There could be nothing else between them right now. Her entire life was focused on trying to collar Garcia.

Rising, Kit studied herself in the mirror. Her eyes were a soft gray color, her mouth still tingling in the aftermath of Noah’s kiss. She saw none of the old Kit Anderson left as she searched the face in front of her. In the past month Noah had brought out her vulnerability. And as the tides of the ocean ebbed and flowed because of the moon’s pull, she was responding in kind to him.

“You’ve got to get a hold on yourself,” she whispered. It was Friday. Thank God Alyssa Trayhern would be visiting this weekend. Kit felt incredibly susceptible after Noah’s kiss. She had no idea how she would behave if they had to spend this weekend alone together. Yes, Aly’s presence was essential.

“Aly!” Noah grinned and threw his arms around his tall, slender sister. He hugged her fiercely, laughing as she wrapped her arms around him.

“Oh, Noah.” Aly sighed, standing back and looking up at him. “It’s so
good
to see a friendly face. I’m sorry I’m early, but I had to escape from Pensacola for a while or lose what little’s left of my mind.”

“Friendly and glad that you’re here. Come on in.” Noah ushered his younger sister inside. It was eight in the morning, and Aly was right on time. She was dressed in a short-sleeved bright green blouse that emphasized her auburn hair, and a pair of khaki-colored slacks. And she looked very tired. Almost as tired as Kit.

Aly leaned down to pet Tripoli, then gave each of the cats a ruffle on the head before following Noah from the foyer.

“You’re just in time for breakfast, sis. I was fixing some of my world-famous Trayhern omelets.”

Chuckling, Aly followed her brother into the kitchen. “Noah, my stomach isn’t up to a wild omelet today.”

“I’ll make you a tame one, then. Fair enough? Sit down. Coffee?”

Placing her purse on another chair, Aly nodded. “A stiff drink would be more like it.”

“That bad at Pensacola, huh?” Noah handed her the cup and returned to his cooking.